


Aftermath - The Sun and the Moon

by Angelic_Temptress



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Battle of Winterfell, F/M, Fluff and Angst, One Shot, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s08e03 The Long Night, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 01:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18681061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelic_Temptress/pseuds/Angelic_Temptress
Summary: Her door abruptly opened, and she realized too late that she hadn’t bothered to lock it. Before Brienne could object, the door was already shut and bolted. It was Jaime, filthy and tired and alive. He said nothing to her.





	Aftermath - The Sun and the Moon

Brienne could barely move. Her body ached with each beat of her heart and each breath she took, proof she’d survived the night. Despite the pain, she was grateful for it. It was better than feeling nothing.

Her weak fingers worked at her plates, and each dirty blue piece unceremoniously dropped to the floor of her chamber. Though she knew she should have been more careful, she couldn’t muster the strength. The armor weighed so heavily, and she needed it off.

With so many dead, there were so few who could bring tubs, let alone fill them. Lady Sansa had already begun organizing those who could aid the battered, the broken, and the dead, and whomever she could spare, she’d instructed to leave fresh linens and basins of hot water for those who could tend to themselves.

Death coated her hair and skin, and Brienne could barely recognize her ugly form in the mirror. She’d been through all seven hells, and she was fortunate. _I survived because Jaime was with me._ She poured herself a cup of water before chugging the entire thing. He’d saved her life, and she’d saved his. They’d moved in unison, as if they’d always been meant to fight beside one another. Their rhythm was easy and natural, and the thought of it overwhelmed her.

Her door abruptly opened, and she realized too late that she hadn’t bothered to lock it. Before Brienne could object, the door was already shut and bolted. It was Jaime, filthy and tired and alive. He said nothing to her.

His green eyes scanned her from boot to hairline and his left hand began to work on his own armor. Steel hit the floor, silver clanging beside the blue. Without thought, she moved to help him, undoing the muddy straps he could not reach. Jaime continued to stare, his gaze hot on her skin.

Brienne wanted to tell him she was relieved that he’d survived, glad he’d fought so well despite his missing hand, but did not. 

Another borrowed piece, that which covered his left shoulder, dropped and rang like a bell as it clattered against the rest. She moved to the golden hand, unfastened it wordlessly, and laid it upon her table. Jaime placed his good hand upon her shoulder and guided her to where the basin sat. He then dipped a cloth inside, soaking it, and brought it to her cheek. And he wiped, cleaning the dirt and blood from her face. She could not help closing her eyes, instantly entranced by the soothing, wet heat.

“I can finally recognize you,” he muttered and continued after again submerging and squeezing the cloth in the basin.

Brienne’s eyes fluttered open and focused on his face. Engrossed in his work, his attention was upon her jaw and then her throat. He dropped the towel in the pale, and his hand moved to unfasten his jerkin. He peeled it off and tossed it at the pile they’d created by her door. He then slipped his soiled tunic over his head. She couldn’t help watching his back muscles shift as he splashed his face and wiped it with the same dirty cloth he’d cleaned her with. Though his hair was matted and greyed and crow’s feet had found the crinkles at his eyes, he was no less beautiful. He was a god, every bit of him. She watched in awe as the cloth glided along his strong, marred arm, from shoulder to stump.

It took all her power to take the towel from his hand, rinse it, and cleanse his other arm. Brienne tried to memorize each cut of muscle, each scar, and each dimple as she slid across his skin. And though she thought his breath hitched, she shifted back to his jawline to wipe the dirt he’d missed and started down a path from his neck and to his chest. His haggard breathing now matched her own, and their eyes met.

_He looks at me as if I’m the only woman in the world._

Her body screamed to touch him, to run her fingers along his chest and over the defined lines of his abdomen. Jaime had gained muscle since she’d last seen his naked form, and a heat found her cheeks and coiled in her stomach. She was drunk on both his beauty and her own exhaustion.

“Would you permit me to help you with your jerkin, Ser?” he asked with no mockery in his husky voice. “We have to clean past your collar.”

Afraid of breaking whatever spell had taken them, she only nodded and started on the laces at her throat. His hungry eyes remained on her, and she refused to shy away. Brienne could be brave now in the quiet of her room, before the crackling hearth, and beneath his consuming stare. His hand gripped her jerkin and pushed it from her shoulder and to the floor. He swallowed, perhaps nervously, as he brought his fingers to the edge of her tunic. He slid it to the side, accessing the scarred flesh of her neck and shoulder. He carefully continued his task.

She shivered.

He noticed. “Has the water cooled too much?”

“No,” she managed.

After he cleaned her left shoulder, he adjusted her tunic to reveal her right. He swept over her collarbone at an agonizingly slow pace. “I thought we moved well together out there.” His eyes searched Brienne’s for something unbeknownst to her.

“Yes,” she croaked in response and instantly felt like an idiot.

Jaime grinned anyway. “I think we may share a natural cadence.” His eyes darkened, and she thought his tone strained. “And I’d bet we’d move well together in other ways too.”

Brienne now openly trembled. How many times had she imagined this when the wind had blown against her tent? How many quiet tears had she stifled, believing he’d never need her the way she needed him? She was a great beast of a woman without a demure bone in her body, and yet here Jaime Lannister was, alluding to his want. Could he possibly? This man had jumped into a bear pit, gifted her his sword and beautiful armor, and come North because he’d listened to her. He’d requested to serve under her command and knighted her in the same day.

If he asked, she’d give all of herself, every single fragment.

“Brienne,” he said with no formality, no title.

“Yes?”

“It would be dishonorable of me if I did not tell you of a… complication I have.”

Whatever magic had taken hold of them would soon be shattered, she knew, and Brienne closed her eyes to await the awful blow. When it did not come, she willed it to. Still he did not speak, forcing her to look to him again, to meet his glittery, green eyes.

“Gods, Brienne. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you tonight.”

Involuntarily, she took the filthy cloth from his hand and set it aside. She thought her heartbeat irregular and her motions unnatural, but she reached for him nonetheless. They embraced, his strong body pressed against her own with only her thin tunic separating their skin. Both his arms wrapped tightly about her, and she felt his stump settle atop the small of her back. She could not remember the last person she’d hugged but could clearly remember the last she’d held almost a lifetime ago.

Jaime released a breath against her ear as her right hand buried itself in his greasy hair. “I love you,” he muttered softly.

His complication wouldn’t matter, whatever it was. The honorable man who not only believed in her loved her as well, and nothing could take that from her. Not the dead. Not the dragon queen. Not the queen seated atop the Iron Throne.

Brienne then attempted that which frightened her more than speaking publicly, more than dying, and more than a bear. “Jaime…” She turned her head slightly and pressed her lips to his ear, echoing his small vow. “I love you.”

+++


End file.
